


A Study in Purple

by Vamillepudding



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Brother Gabriel, Big Brother Lucifer, Big Brother Michael, Castiel Plays the Violin, Detective Castiel, Drug Addiction, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Opium, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phobias, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam is a doctor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3487421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vamillepudding/pseuds/Vamillepudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>// ABANDONED //</p><p>The Supernatural characters in the setting of Sherlock Holmes in the end of the 19th century. </p><p>Sam Watson has just finished his education as a doctor and is now looking for a place to live when he meets Castiel Holmes, the weird, highly intelligent outcast who more or less talks Sam into moving in together. Sam did not plan to get involved in Castiel's work. He did though plan to see his brother again, but when Dean turns up on their doorstep years after their departure now searching for John who has somehow disappeared Sam realises he actually knows nothing about his big brother, or Castiel, or the relationship between the two most important people in his life. How do they know each other? Why has neither of them ever mentioned the other one? And why are they behaving so strange, but won't tell Sam what's going on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Castiel Holmes AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/101312) by deadpai. 



> This is not my first fanfiction, but this is, in fact, my first fanfiction for Supernatural, and my first crossover as well. I have a huge part written already, so even though I've got exams now until like the end of April updates are still going to come regulary. This story is based on a fanart I've seen, it's from deadpai and listed under my inspirations for this fic, you should check it out because it's amazing.  
> If you read the prologue now, let me assure you: This is not a deathfic. Just saying.  
> Also, this is not a typical Sherlock fic (as you might have guessed). There are going to be actual cases, but mostly it'll be more about the developing relationships between the different characters rather than Sam and Cas solving cases.  
> The title of this fanfic is obviously inspired from the original Sherlock Holmes, but I promise that it's not as random as it might seem now.  
> Thanks to my beta reader moonweaver30!!  
> Right, my monologue is over, enjoy reading now! :D

**_Prologue_ **

 

_What’s past is prologue  
-William Shakespeare _

 

They had gone a long road since their first encounter.

So many memories floated through Castiel’s mind right now. Happy memories, moments when they’d just been _them_ , laughing and talking and kissing.

They were almost over-shadowed by the sad moments, together with feelings of guilt and regret, but Cas didn’t want to think about that right now as too many tears had been shed already.

And all of them finally faded away, giving in to an overwhelming sense of understanding.

Because Castiel understood now.

He understood that everything they had done together, and all the time they had been separated from each other, everything made sense.

Everything had lead to where they were now.

And this was fine.

Because he also finally understood that however hard you try, you can’t change fate.

This was it, their last meeting, and wasn’t it just ironic how things had turned out in the end?

Castiel took a deep breath and looked down the edge before looking up, meeting Dean’s gaze for the last time.

 _It’s okay_ he wanted to say. _Don’t be afraid. It’s gonna be okay._ But He was watching, so all Castiel could do was looking into these green eyes, shaking his head slightly – and jump.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all the people who left me kudos and comments! Also, a special thanks to deadpai! It really means much to me that you read and commented my work! :D  
> So, this is the first chapter. It's pretty short again, but as I said, the next chapters will be longer, it's just that this time it felt like a good way to end it. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

_Sometimes in life, you find a special friend. Someone who changes your life just by being part of it. Someone who makes you laugh until you can’t stop. Someone who makes you believe that there really is good in the world. Someone who convinces you that there really is an unlocked door just waiting for you to open it.  
-Unknown_

The waitress had been nice. She had given him a second cup of coffee for free and had told him in secret which one the best meal was. Sam had smiled and laughed and chatted with her, but his thoughts were somewhere else, were at his flat he could no longer live in as his landlord had told him this morning. Apparently he planned on selling the whole building to some rich guy who had decided out of the blue that he wanted it. By Monday. It was Thursday now, and Sam didn’t have much hope to find something else within the next three days. The only thing that could probably help him in this desperate situation was an angel he thought bitterly.

“Me too.” Sam flinched when he found someone sitting next to him who definitely hadn’t been there a minute ago.

“What?” The man, he couldn’t be much older than Dean, looked at him grimly, and Sam wondered if he’d done something to upset him.

“I’m looking for a place to live, too.” Either the guy was a mind-reader, or – or nothing. Sam hadn’t told anybody that he was looking for something new, how could he, since the only person he’d spoken to today except for the landlord was the waitress.

“How do you-“

“The newspaper.” Sam almost sighed in relief. Of course, he had been looking for flats earlier in some of the newspapers the Café had, and one was still open in front of him.

“Also your shoes” the man continued. “221b Bakerstreet, tomorrow afternoon at 3 o’clock.”

“Wait a minute, why-“

“Don’t be late.” The man stood up.

“Wait!” Sam said, and the stranger froze. “You – I mean, we don’t know each other, I could be a murderer or something.”

“Don’t be silly. You are not a murderer, you are a doctor. Are we finished here? Good.”

“No, we are not finished!” Now the man turned around, his face showing his annoyance. “We don’t know each other” Sam repeated. “Hell, we don’t even know each other’s names, and you want to move in with me?”

“I know you are a doctor. You have lost someone, recently, but not that recent that you’d still be in deep grief. You feel guilty constantly. You have a flat, but this is no longer an option, maybe because you can’t afford it since you a technically a doctor but can’t find work. You can’t ask your family to help you out because of said loss, you are afraid to face them again. Now tell me, doctor, what is in a name (*)?”

_What the hell_ Sam thought. This guy had just basically summarised his life. Who was this man, who now smirked? This question, he realised, was something he really wanted the answer to. So he might as well have a look at this place the man had mentioned. He had nothing to lose, right?

“You’re right” he said when he had finished thinking. “I have lost someone.” The stranger looked satisfied. “But he is not dead.” Now the other man’s features softened, changing into an unreadable expression.

“My name is Castiel Holmes” he replied finally. “221b Bakerstreet. Do not forget that.” With this he left, leaving Sam confused behind.

 

_18th March, 1888  
_

_Dear Dean,_

_How are you? How is Dad doing?_  
_I’m fine. Really, I am. Today I met an interesting person. Either he is very smart, or he has planned to murder me for a very long time. Don’t worry, I’m joking. I don’t think he is a bad person, he is just…interesting. He was able to tell me several facts about me which he shouldn’t even know. I have to ask him how he has done this trick. His name is Castiel Holmes. I think you would like him, after you punched him in the face and told him that he is an arrogant prick, of course. Tomorrow we’re looking together for a flat. I myself am not sure why I agreed to this. You would probably call me insane, and stupid, and insane again. But as I said, I believe he is a good person._

_I miss you. I wish you’d be here._

_Sam_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * = The quote is from Shakespeare. Castiel in this fic will quite often quote people, and since he usually expects from the other person to know what he's talking about and won't bother explaining you will always find the quoted person in the Author's notes in the end.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like I needed to mention that you can't trust anything I write about the 19th century. I did some research, but I didn't look every detail up, so it's very likely that the historical aspects are incorrect. I'm sorry for that, as well as I'm for the occasional use of "Okay's".

Rain was falling, changing the ground to a muddy mess and forming puddles in the middle of London’s streets. Men were cursing, taking out their umbrellas as the first drops hit the floor, and women dragged children in the entries of the next available building. Sam watched all this from the warm inside of the carriage, dreading the moment when it would stop and he’d have to go out in the rain.  
_Holmes better not be late_ , he thought when the vehicle came to a hold.  
  
He found himself in a not very outstanding street. The sign on the house in front of him said 221B Bakerstreet, and since he couldn’t spot Castiel Holmes Sam hurried to knock to avoid getting even wetter than he already was.  
The door opened and he was facing a brunette woman in her forties. She looked rather strict despite her friendly smile, and Sam got the feeling that he wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.  
  
“You must be the new tenant. Nice to meet you. Sam – what was the last name?”  
  
“Watson.” Even after all this time the name still felt foreign on his tongue. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs…”  
  
“Hudson. Call me Ellen though, everyone does.” They shook hands and Ellen gestured him to come in. Sam followed her when she walked upstairs.  
  
“You seem familiar to me” Ellen said and opened the door. “Have we met already?”  
  
“Not that I know of” Sam replied politely and entered the flat first. He now stood in a living room which was, though not exactly large, not tiny either, and had enough space for the two sofas, an arm chair and a coffee table. In one corner was a withered plant.  
  
“There are also two bedrooms and a bathroom in this flat” the landlady explained. “I live in the one downstairs with my daughter.”  
  
“It’s a nice place” Sam said a couple of minutes later after Ellen had showed him the other rooms, and he meant it. He could imagine himself living here. Of course only if the rent was payable, but he’d wait for Holmes before he’d start this subject. Speaking of whom, where was he?  
  
“Uhm, has Mr. Holmes cancelled or something?”  
  
“He said he might be late. A case, probably. Either that or he’s doing something stupid and dangerous. Maybe he’s doing both.” Sam chuckled.  
  
“That reminds me of my brother. He was always like this" the young doctor said thoughtfully.  
  
“You have a brother?”  
  
“Had" Sam said automatically.  
  
“I’m sorry for your loss” Ellen said, and Sam couldn’t bring himself to correct her. Instead he changed the subject:  
  
“So, how do you know Mr. Holmes?”  
  
“I have another place, just down the road. It’s a bar, and a few years ago he saved my daughter from being assaulted. It ended in a fight, and even though he was clearly drugged he won. Knocked the guy unconscious before passing out himself. I took care of Castiel. And made him pay for the smashed glasses, of course. We’ve been friends ever since.”  
  
“Has he always been this…you know…strange?” Sam muted. The second Ellen’s eyes narrowed he knew he’d made a mistake.  
  
“If you ever call him strange again in my presence you’ll be out of this flat within a second. Castiel is highly intelligent, and he is…extraordinary.”  
  
“I know. Sorry, it’s just…he’s quite unique.” Ellen glared at him for another moment before her features relaxed visibly.  
  
“He is.” They fell silent, and stayed this way until Castiel came in a few minutes later.

***  
  
“My apologies. I was on my way when I got distracted" the dark-haired man explained.  
  
“What kind of distraction?” Sam asked at the same time as Ellen said:  
  
“Is that _blood_?” Now he saw it as well, dark red splattering over Holmes’ soaked clothes.  
  
“Not my own.”  
  
“Should I expect Lestrade popping in any time soon because another dead body with your finger tips on it was found?”  
  
“No. I mean, yes, he is gonna arrive soon, but not because of my distraction. There is a case.”  
  
“If there is a case, why are you here right now?” Sam wanted to know before Ellen had the chance to respond.  
  
“I am not officially employed as you might say” Castiel answered. Sam noticed from the corner of his eye that the landlady suppressed a chuckle and left the apartment.  
He briefly wondered why she would just leave two strangers who hadn’t even rented the flat yet in said apartment on their own, but then he realised that she knew Castiel and probably trusted him of handling any kind of trouble Sam might be.  
  
“So if you are not a detective, why exactly would Lestrade ask you to join in?”  
  
“Because the people he’s paying are incapable of doing their job, and I’m better than every one of them.” Somehow he had a hard time believing this. If the inspector did indeed ask Castiel for help quite frequently – and Castiel and Ellen had hinted this – then why didn’t he just replace him with one of the detectives?  
  
“Because it doesn’t look good for Royal Yard to employ a drug-addict and swindler. Also because I refuse to be part of this stupid team of his.”  
  
“Are you? Drug-addicted and a swindler, I mean.”  
  
“No.” Castiel paused. “Not anymore anyway. I came to the conclusion that drugs are for weak people, and weak people are stupid. I’m neither.”  
  
“Arrogant, that’s what you are.” Sam blurted out before fully thinking through the effect of insulting his potential new flat-mate would have.  
  
“Well, Sam, it’s simple: Either I am incredibly smart or all the other people are incredibly stupid. Which option do you prefer?”  
  
Sam didn’t answer for half a minute. Castiel just held his gaze, calm, while his eyes seemed to say _Go on. Contradict. Insult me. Prove that I’m right about people being idiots._ But Sam didn’t do any of these things. Instead he started laughing.  
  
“We are going to get along well.” The detective frowned, then mirrored Sam’s grin.  
  
“Yeah, I believe so as well.”

***

Indeed, half an hour later the door opened and a man came in. He was in his mid-thirties, and wore a grey suit.  
Sam recognized him as Inspector Lestrade from Royal Yard, he had seen photos of him in the newspapers.  
As a doctor Sam didn’t have much to do with the police, but from the time before that he remembered that his father had sometimes talked about the exceptionally young inspector (Lestrade wasn’t old now, but a few years ago he had been the youngest member of Royal Yard in a superior position). He also remembered himself admiring the man, who always tried his best to do justice, and on top of that legally.  
Now facing the person who had once been his idol – granted, he had quickly been replaced by famous lawyers, doctors and other people, but still – was a bit of a shock.  
But Lestrade didn’t give him so much as a glance anyway, he approached Castiel immediately.  
  
“There is a case, and I need your help” the inspector said. Castiel didn’t react to the sudden invasion of his personal space.  
  
“There always is and you always do” he deadpanned.  
  
“You don’t have to be sarcastic. You need to come with me, now.”  
  
“I do not take orders from you, Michael.” _Michael?_ Sam thought. He found it curious that Castiel and the inspector were on such a familiar basis.  
  
“Would you just come, please, without being a child? People are dying, it’s our responsibility, and I can’t believe that we still have this talk every time I need your help.”  
  
“Considering that we do have this talk every time you need my help I suspect you know what I am going to say next.” Lestrade seemed to be on the edge of yelling when he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
“I can always do it alone.”  
  
“But you won’t. Can’t, anyway, with that team of yours.” The inspector’s ears started to get red while Castiel simply looked amused, which, on the other hand, seemed to anger Lestrade even more.  
  
“Why don’t we all just calm down?” Sam interrupted before the tension would explode.  
  
Both men turned around and looked at him, and even though they didn’t look alike in appearance their expression and their way to stand was so similar that Sam now realised what he had missed to see before. “You are brothers?” It was a bit inappropriate to say, and even rude considered that the men had been in the middle of a conversation, but Sam was sure that at least Castiel didn’t even know enough about social etiquette to mind. Still, the silence was a bit uncomfortable.  
Finally Lestrade was the first to break it.  
  
“No, but our fathers are. Who are you, may I ask?” 15-year old Sam would have exploded in excitement. 22-year old Sam was perfectly calm. Well, a little bit excited maybe. But still. Mostly calm.  
  
“Sam Watson. I’m moving in with Castiel.” When had he started calling Castiel by his first name? Not that Castiel seemed to mind.  
  
“I’m glad to see he found a flatmate” Lestrade said, as well seemingly unbothered by Sam’s intimidating towards his little cousin. “We all were concerned if he would. Not that he needed to, since I offered him to stay with me, but Castiel has always had his  
own will.” The inspector’s voice was polite, a person offering information to another person, but there was an undertone, very familiar to what Dean sounded whenever he talked about Sam. It was Love.  
  
“We? Who’s we?” Sam asked, deciding that if they hadn’t kicked him out yet they wouldn’t do so in the near future. Castiel groaned silently and shot a glare towards Sam, but didn’t say anything.  
  
“The family” Lestrade explained. “My brother and I grew up in one household with Castiel and his brother.” He looked like he was going to say more, when Castiel said:  
  
“When you are finished talking about me while I am standing right next to you, would you mind explaining the case?”  
  
***  
  
“So, this was your cousin, huh?” Sam asked when Lestrade had left after Castiel had solved the case without even having been to the crime scene.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Are you guys close?”  
  
“Well, considering that we grew up together without any adult, and Michael was trying his best to replace our fathers, I would say so, yes.”  
  
“Wait, you didn’t have parents watching over you?” He probably shouldn’t sound so shocked, but there was a difference between having a father who was, if often away, still often with his sons, and having no adult at all watching over one.  
  
“My father left before I was born, and my mother died giving birth to me. Michael’s and Lucifer’s father has disappeared soon after my brother and I moved in with them, and my aunt is in no condition to raise children. It has only been us.” Only Castiel  
could sound so unaffected.  
  
“Oh my God, I mean...that must have been awful.”  
  
“It was for my brother and cousins, I suppose. I have never known anything else.”  
  
“I – I’m sorry, man.” Castiel looked at him for a moment and then his lips twisted into a ghost of a smile.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
***  
  
“What do you think of him?” Lucifer asked, sitting on the floor with his head resting on the sofa. It was something Castiel would do, and Michael knew that his cousin had adopted the habit of sitting anywhere but proper sitting places from Lucifer. He himself was sitting in the chair, inwardly arguing with himself if he should open the Whiskey standing nearby, or stay sober for the sake of his dignity and this conversation. His baby brother solved the problem for him by taking the bottle and filling the glasses from which he gabe one to Michael. The older man took a sip before answering:  
  
“I’m not sure. He is the average man, and if I met him at the street I wouldn’t have so much as looked at him, but after talking to him for a bit...there is something about him that doesn’t fit. I can’t quite put my finger on it, it’s just instinct.”  
  
“Did you write that on your last report? I _killed him because my instinct told me so_?” Michael’s little brother asked with a twinkle in his eyes.  
  
“Good coming from the person who gets sued more often than he receives payment checks” Michael deadpanned before going back to serious. “Whatever it is, I’m sure Gabriel will find out. And Castiel likes him, from the look on his face whenever directed to Sam he thinks of the poor boy as a new favourite toy, so I suppose we-” Michael paused, taking another mouth full Whiskey, and Lucifer finished the sentence for him:  
  
“- wait until we know more about him before we beat him up?”  
  
“Precisely.” The inspector used the glass to hide his smile. Sometimes it was unbelievable that the man in front of him was a well-educated doctor. Then again, as such Lucifer knew exactly where to hit to cause the most pain without killing someone.  
  
“Did you tell Gabe about this new development?”  
  
“I’m sure he already knows. Did - did you talk to him recently?”  
  
“Mike, if I did you would know.”  
  
“Sure, I know that, I just...they miss you.” Lucifer snorted.  
  
“And you know that how? Did little Cassie tell you that by his constant frown?”  
  
“Luci, I...we can fix that. Somehow, we can fix that. I know you don’t believe that, but we can, and we will.” Michael knew that they could. They were a family after all, and that’s what families do: Fighting and getting back together afterwards.  
  
Lucifer emptied his second glass and looked with a melancholic expression at something behind Michael, who didn’t have to turn around to know what it was. On the wall behind him hung the only family portrait they had. It had been a present from all of them for Michael’s 18th birthday. Lucifer and Gabe had saved money for months, and then had paid a young artist to do this portrait when they themselves had been only 17 and 14. The 8 year old Castiel on the picture was in the middle between Lucifer and Gabriel, the latter one hugging his little brother with one arm while the other arm was around Lucifer’s shoulders. Lucifer had one arm around Gabe as well, the other one as around Michael. They were all grinning, even Castiel. It had been a very unusual request for the artist who had just been out of art school, and Lucifer had later told Michael what the man had said: “A request that just fits the family asking for it,” Michael loved the picture, and so did Lucifer. But when once his gaze when looking at it had been happiness and pride, it was now filled with sadness and regret.  
  
“Fix it? Mike, we were not able to fix it in the past 5 years. What makes you think we can fix it now?”  
  
“Well, there is a difference now.”  
  
“And what would that be?”  
  
“There is Sam Watson. If we are lucky he’ll manage to get through to our brother. And when Castiel forgives you, I’m sure Gabriel will follow.”  
  
“I hope you are right, Michael. I hope you are right.”

***

_19th  March 1888_

_Dear Dean,_

  
_remember what I told you about Castiel? Today I was in the apartment. I met the landlady. Her name is Ellen, and she seems nice._  
_Castiel was late, and when he finally came he had blood on his clothes. That sounds familiar, doesn’t it?_  
_Anyway, the inspector of Royal Yard, Lestrade, also came. He wanted Castiel’s help at a case. Later Castiel explained to me that Lestrade is his cousin. Apparently they grew up together, all on their own. T_  
_hat also sounds familiar, right, growing up without a parent watching over them?_  
_– I know what you are thinking right now, but it’s true. Still, even though it resembles our own history I can’t help but feel sorry for him. He had to go through much, and unlike us he has never even known his parents._  
_I’m sure now that you would like him._  
_I wish you would meet him, also because I miss you. You should come and visit us_. _Please, Dean._

_Sam_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me your opinion on this! I'm happy about any kind of reaction :D


	4. Chapter 3 Part 1

They had lived together for a bit over a month now. Castiel had mostly been away. Sometimes he explained where he was going, but most of the time he didn’t. Sam spent a lot of his time looking in newspapers for a job, but the job hunt hadn’t been successful so far, and he started to get a bit concerned. He still had some money saved, so paying the rent shouldn’t be a problem for at least another month, but after that he would eventually have to tell Castiel of his financial worries.   
The rest of the time Sam was either in the apartment reading or writing letters to Dean, or in the city wandering around. Today it was raining, like the day when he had first been to the flat, and Sam was inside sitting in the armchair when the door opened and Castiel entered the room. He didn’t bother saying hello to Sam, or acknowledging his presence in any way, he just walked straight into his bedroom. Sam, having experienced this behaviour before, just shook his head slightly and turned his attention back to the book he was reading. 12 pages later Castiel came out of his room, but instead of leaving again as he usually did, he just stood still and watched Sam, who decided to ignore it. But it turned out that it was hard to focus on the words when someone pinned you down with a stare. 

“What?” he asked, annoyed. “Do I have something in my face?” 

“Well, that depends how you define face, I mean, if you-“

“That’s not what I – just forget it. Why do you keep staring at me?” 

“I was thinking if you would be useful in helping me out.” 

“You mean, you need my help and you thought about how to ask me.” Sam smiled just a little self-satisfied. Castiel blinked. Sam knew this wasn’t going anywhere. “I can help you, if you want.” 

“That would be...appreciated” the detective said slowly. 

“ _Thank you_ is also an option” he muttered, and quickly added: “You don’t have to say anything to that. Just tell me what you need me for.” 

“Certain objects were stolen. These objects were precious objects, objects that cannot be replaced. It is not an ordinary thief who did this.”

“How do you know that?” 

“Because I know the suspect’s identity.” 

“Err, that’s great, Castiel, but what do you need me for if that’s the case?” 

“Just because I know who it is does not mean I am able to find him. That’s why I need your help.”

“Uh, you do realise that I’m a doctor, right? If you don’t know where this person is then I have no chance of finding out.”

“You...can help. Just come with me.” 

“Wow, you sound a lot like Lestrade.” 

“Please do not compare me to Michael. Or to anyone, actually. I’m fine being myself. Are you coming or do you prefer sitting here uselessly?” 

“You don’t care about ‘sitting here uselessly’” Sam protested. “You do it all the time!” 

“Yes, and whom does it bother more? Me or you?” 

Castiel left the flat, not waiting for Sam any longer. The doctor sighed and quickly grabbed his coat before running after the other man.

***

“So, what are wir doing for research? Do you have any newspapers, I don’t know...?” Sam wanted to know when they were outside and he was doing his best to catch up with Castiel. 

“That would be pointless, considering that I know who did this.” 

“Wait, now you are not even going to pretend any more that the only reason I’m here is as an amusement for you?” Castiel’s eyes widened just enough for Sam to know that the detective actually hadn’t even considered that.

But then why was he here? 

“That’s...not it.” Since the other man didn’t make the impression of saying anything more Sam decided to just ask instead. 

“What did he steal exactly?” 

“Something that belongs to Heaven.” 

“Heaven?” Sam repeated. 

“Yes.” 

“I’m sure he did. Hey, are you sure you are alright? No drug-use lately?”

“Heaven is in this case not an imagination invented by people who are too weak to think for themselves and need someone to make all decisions for them, and who are totally oblivious to Enlightenment. It’s an opium den. The biggest, most well-organised opium den in England” Castiel explained, sounding totally serious. Then again, when did he ever not sound serious? Still, the younger man was unsure whether to believe him. 

“Did he steal drugs?” 

“No, nothing like that. He stole weapons. Like Heaven is the best of its kind, so are these weapons. Raphael, the owner, wants them back at every price, as I’ve heard. That’s why we are going the Heaven’s Gate.” 

“Heaven’s Gate?” Sam said, wondering when Castiel’s lips curled into a small smile if he had only been allowed to come with him because Castiel enjoyed hearing himself talk. 

“A bar. It serves as a disguise for the opium den.” 

“I can’t believe this. People are talking about it everywhere, but I’ve never even heard of Heaven.” 

“I would be surprised if you did. Walk faster, we don’t have all day.” 

“Castiel, how do you know all of this?”

“You could say that a few years ago I was quite a frequent visitor there.” That reminded Sam that Castiel had admitted before that he had taken drugs, and he didn’t push any further and concentrated on walking. Later though he wondered how a brilliant mind could choose a drug that provided sweet oblivion rather than knowledge, and paralysed the mind rather than inspiring.

***

The bar made a shady impression on Sam, and even if Castiel hadn’t told him about its second business he would have suspected that there were dodgy deals going on in here.   
Castiel made his way to a corner table where someone was sitting already. Sam didn’t follow immediately until a nod of Castiel reassured that he wouldn’t be stabbed for listening to this conversation. Not until Castiel would anger the man, of course. 

“Zachariah” Castiel said, confusing Sam. Hadn’t Castiel said that the owner was called Raphael? 

“Castiel” the bold man in front of them said. “Who is your pet?” 

“No one from importance. Tell me ab-“ 

“Why, that’s not very nice, Castiel, is it? I apologise for him. He never was good with people’s skills” Zachariah said, looking directly at Sam. 

“That’s alright. I’m Phil Jones. Nice to meet you. I’m helping Mr. Holmes in this case.” 

“Pleasure. I’m shocked to see that Castiel suddenly needs help with his investigations. He used to be able to do it alone. - No, Castiel, the big boys are talking now.” Zachariah added when Castiel had opened his mouth. Sam didn’t like the man, and especially the way he treated Castiel, but he didn’t dare to say anything to that. Trying to be diplomatic he said: 

“I’m sure he would not need my help, but since I am a physician by training I am a valuable help for him.” 

“I see” Zachariah said in a voice that made clear he did not believe a word of what Sam had said. “Let me fill you in. Some time ago a few artefacts were stolen. They are very rare, and we want. Them. Back. Now, Castiel, it’s your and your pet’s job to return those items, as well as the thief. Raphael is quite...disturbed by the fact that anyone would do such a thing, and he wants to express his opinion. So, you know what you’ve got to do.” 

“Yes. I’ll be in touch.” Sam and Castiel both stood up. 

“It was nice to meet you, Doctor...Jones” Zachariah called after them.

***

“Why did we even speak to him when you already knew what happened?” Sam asked, keeping his voice low. They hadn’t left the bar, and he assumed that Castiel was waiting for something or someone else. His suspicions were about to be confirmed when the other man answered in the same quiet tone. 

“I know more than they think I do. Them keeping me in the dark does not make a difference when I have other ways of getting information. This meeting with Zachariah was the official confirmation, you could say. Also I’m waiting for someone else.” 

“Hey, did you ever consider what will happen when you get caught? Your _cousin_ is the chief of Royal Yard.” 

“That’s his issue, I suppose.” 

“But that’s wrong! I mean, you do care about what his opinion of you is, right?” 

“I do care, Sam, but that won’t conflict with my actions. This talk is over now.” First Sam thought of it as a childish attempt to end a conversation until he realised that there was now a short, nervous-looking man standing next to them. 

“C-Castiel?”

“Yes. You need to do something for me.” 

“D-Do something f-for you? What?” 

“I need one of your novels.” 

“They forbid me to even t-talk about them!” 

“The one in which Balthazar is mentioned.” 

“Did you hear me? I can’t give it to you!” 

“As soon as possible. It’s important.” 

“Why? You are not even in that story!” 

“And with as soon as possible I mean Now.” 

“How d-do you expect me to get them?” Finally Castiel seemed aware of something the anxious man had said. He pointed at Sam. 

“Take him. I need to go. Sam will bring it to me. I will see you later.”   
  
***

“I’m Sam Watson” Sam said, deciding that since Castiel had used his first name already it was safe to reveal his identity to the other man. 

“Chuck Shurley” Chuck said and sighed. “I - I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can do this. You will tell Castiel I’m sorry, right? Please, just leave.” 

“Sorry - Chuck? I’m afraid I can’t leave until we get the novel.” _And maybe Castiel will tell me later why the hell we need a bloody novel._ “ 

“That’s bad” the shorter man muttered. “Really bad. Is anyone looking in our direction?” 

“Uhm...I don’t think so” Sam replied, looking around. Zachariah had disappeared, and except for them there were only two other people in the bar, hunched over their cheap beers. 

“There is always someone watching. Damnit. F-follow me, okay? And don’t look behind you. L-Look natural.”

Chuck started making his way towards a door that’s dark colour matched the one of the walls and was therefore almost hidden. Sam was right behind him, wondering if he’d now get to see the actual opium den.   
But when they entered the room behind it he was disappointed. It was only a stockroom, and he couldn’t even see any books.   
Chuck on the other hand seemed near a panic attack. Sam took a step closer to understand what the man was babbling. 

“Oh God. Somebody’s gonna see us. They’re gonna find out and they’re gonna kill us. Oh my God. I think I’m gonna faint. I’m definitely gonna faint.” 

“Right” said Sam. “If you just tell me how I can find this book Castiel wants I can do it alone from here.” 

“Really? - No. No, I n-need to come with you. If you go alone they’re gonna kill you. Just...act normal.”  
  
Sam followed Chuck through another stockroom into an almost empty room with only a desk with mountains of paper and a man sitting at it. Chuck prevented Sam from going inside.

“That’s Inias” the man whispered, just loud enough for Sam to make out his words. “That’s better than I thought. He might let us in without alarming anyone. You speak.” 

“What m I supposed to say?” Sam whispered back, but it was too late, Chuck had already gone inside. Inias looked up when seeing the two other men. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Chuck looked at Sam. 

“My name is Doctor Jones. Zachariah sends us. Apparently there is need for medical help inside Heaven.” 

“Really? That’s odd, he didn’t inform me of this.” 

“Oh, that’s alright, he informed me” Chuck chipped in, this time sounding surprisingly confident. Maybe it was survival instinct, Sam thought. Inias still looked a bit suspicious, but finally nodded. 

“Alright. Come on in, then.”   
  
***  
  
The room they now entered was big, very big. Asian-looking lamps threw a dim light onto people, mostly men but with a few women in their midst, who were either lying on the wooden floor or sitting on huge pillows. Someone was playing the piano somewhere, the only noise in the room. The air was filled with smoke and the sweet, flowery smell of opium. Chuck inhaled deeply, only to break into a cough. Sam looked around, his gaze scanning over the people who all had the same relaxed expression, a similar smile on their faces. Strangely disappointed by the lack of excitement, he said, his voice hushed: 

“So that’s it, huh? The great opium den? A bunch of people smoking themselves to death?” 

“No, that’s not it” Chuck replied, for some reason smiling. “These people? Everyone could do that. Take a few addicts, throw them into a room and give them opium. This room is just for show. he genius behind Heaven lies behind those doors.” He pointed at three doors painted in a creamy colour. 

“That’s where we need to go? Then what are we waiting for?” 

“It’s not t-that easy. The prolem is that we cannot be seen, or they will kill us. Oh my God. They are gonna kill us, aren’t they?” 

“Calm down” Sam said, sharper than he had intended to be. “We don’t have time for this. Which door is it?” Chuck took a few deep breaths, and replied after he had finished coughing: 

“The left one. You’ll find a couple of chests in there. In one of them are my novels. The one you are looking for is called _The Third Man_. Just...get it and leave. There is a back exit. Do you see this curtain? Behind it is a room for, ah, special services, and in there is a door which leads outside. I, uh, need to go.” The shorter man averted his eyes when he quickly made his way back to the room where Inias sat.   
  
***  
  
“Right, I got the novel” Sam said two hours later. Getting it had been surprisingly easy once he had shaken off - or rather, ignored - his fear of being caught in the act. Luckily the room for _special services_ Chuck had been empty, and if someone had seen a tall, nervous-looking stranger enter it and not coming back, Sam didn’t know of it, he had escaped without any problems.   
Castiel didn’t even look up from the wall he was currently staring at. Annoyed, Sam put it on the table. “Hello, Sam, how are you? Thanks for getting the thing I couldn’t be bothered to get myself because _reasons_ ” he muttered while starting to make tea. 

“Why are you talking to yourself?” Castiel asked, and seriously, Sam was too fed up with his shit by now to answer that. Instead he handed Castiel a mug, and, when confronted with confused face he added: “For you.”

Taking his own cup he settled down on the sofa and watched his flatmate drinking a sip and jumping from the burning heat on his lips and tongue. 

“Dude, did you never drink tea before?” he said chuckling. 

“No. My brothers are all coffee-drinkers, except for Gabriel that is, and I assume that has rubbed off on me.”

“You do realise that coffee is hot too, right?” 

“Coffee is expected to be hot. Tea...it’s something new. I’m not sure if I like it.” 

“I’ve had the same conversation with my brother about pie and cake once” Sam said, and Castiel looked at him with new interested. 

“I wasn’t aware you had a brother. What is he like?” Sam grinned, feeling old excitement rising inside him. It reminded him of when he had been a kid, always happy to talk about his brother, the hero. 

“He’s great! I mean, he can be annoying as hell, and he thinks he’s funny but he really isn’t, and he tends to spend all his money on pie instead of new clothes or something like that.” 

“He sounds like a person you like to be around.” 

“Oh, he is. He really is. Our father never really saw how great he is though. Kinda treated him like a tool. One of the reasons why I left.” 

“You mean that you moved out?” Sam huffed. 

“That’s one way to put it. I didn’t talk to them since.” 

“Forgive me if it’s inappropriate, but...you left your brother because you did not like the way your father treated him, and then stopped all kinds of communication?” The question was like a punch in the face for Sam. He felt a wave of emotions and didn’t even know why, just that he was _angry_. 

“It’s not like - you don’t understand!” 

“I’m sorry. It was not my place to ask.” 

“No, it’s alright, I just - wasn’t prepared, that’s all. But the thing is, I didn’t tell you the whole story. It’s not only that Dad treated him like - like some kind of object, my brother also never complained! Not even once! Hell, he was grateful for every damn order Dad threw his way. _Perfect, mindless little soldier._ That’s what I called him, right before I left. The look on his face - if you’d seen it you wouldn’t want to face him, too.” 

“I see” Castiel said. The younger man waited for anything else, maybe comfort, maybe encouragement that he should, in fact, speak to Dean, but nothing came, Castiel’s attention was now focused on his still-hot tea. 

“What’s next? Now that we got the novel - and by the way, what the hell do we need that for?” 

“Chuck is an author. He used to work as a bartender in Heaven’s Gate as a research for his novels. He wrote about everything - the people who worked there and the people who visited frequently, the people who came for opium and the people who were looking for a business deal. The people behind Heaven did not like that when they found out. Since he had only published very few novels, and even they were not very popular, they managed to find and burn them mostly, though they still kept one copy of every book, maybe as some kind of trophy. Of course they could not take the risk of Chuck running around and telling people about what he had heard, but they could not kill him either. Despite the general opinion Heaven’s servants don’t kill people if they don’t have to. That’s why he is there. As long as he doesn’t leave Heaven or Heaven’s Gates he’s free to do whatever he wants. And Heaven is much bigger than you think, since I assume you have only seen part of the ground floor.” It was a long and wordy explanation, maybe the longest Sam had ever heard Castiel talking, but helpful nonetheless. While Castiel had talked Sam had colleted the empty mugs and put them in the sink before passing Castiel the novel. 

“Are you included, too? I mean, did he write something about you?” 

“Yes. It’s only ten pages, but it’s very accurate.” 

“What’s it called?”

“Fallen Angel” Castiel replied. “I never figured out why, and Chuck refuses to tell me. Not that it matters. Anyway, what we need to find out where Balthazar, that’s the culprits name, is hiding. The problem is that I don’t have a way to find out right now. I know for a fact that my brother is spying on me, and I don’t want him to know about this case.”

“Wait a second, I thought the novel would be some kind of help with that.” Castiel shot him the ‘You are stupid’ look. 

“No. It’ll serve as bribery. He won’t be able to resist. We will trade. - The only issue is that, as I said, there is no way for me to get to know his hiding spot.” A miserable look appeared on Castiel’s face. Sam bit his lip, thinking. 

“I might be able to help with that” he finally said. 

“You” Castiel echoed, his obvious surprise insulting Sam a bit. 

“Yes.” 

“How?” 

“There is an old family friend. He might have an idea on how to find Balthazar.”

“Can we trust him?”

“Definitely.” 

“Who is it?” 

“He’s called Bobby Singer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually only half of the chapter but I didn't want to let you guys wait any longer, and I'm a little stuck right now so I thought I might as well let it end here :D Hope you enjoy it, the other half is coming up next week (hopefully).   
> Please tell me what you think, I'm grateful for any comment :D


	5. Chapter 3 Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm really insecure about this chapter. I hope you still enjoy it though. And as always, thanks to those who left Kudos or comments! I'm always glad to receive feedback. Enjoy!

Bobby Singer was sitting in a chair cleaning his gun while thinking of the Winchesters, as he did quite often these days. He hadn’t heard of John since the younger man had pulled quite a stunt a couple of years ago in his house, and he had taken his boys with him. Sam had held contact all these years, writing every few weeks at first and now every few months about how things were going. Bobby wrote back, telling him about what was going on here in return. But the last letter had arrived nearly a year and a half ago, and Sam had been quite distant, just telling that he’d gone to London to get educated as a doctor. He hadn’t mentioned Dean, which was odd. Bobby wondered what the boys had been doing in the meanwhile. The last time he had seen Sam was the night John had left, but Dean had visited a few times after this, for a couple of months actually probably every two or three weeks. The young man had never told Bobby why he was here so frequently, just muttered something about a job and John’s orders when asked. Bobby missed them, he couldn’t deny it. He had never been an exactly sociable man, not after his wife had been murdered anyway, but John’s boys had always been a bright light in his life. Maybe he should go to London, look for Sam, make sure he was alright, even though  
\- a knock on the door. Bobby stood up and grabbed his gun before opening.  
Outside stood two men, the older one a few steps behind the younger man, who was despite his age much taller than his companion. Both were looking somehow insecure. It took Bobby a few moments to realise who was actually standing there. In the past 8 years Sam had grown up, not only his height, but his appearance had changed as well. He was a young man now - still, the Sam from then was clearly underneath that. For another second Bobby held the hope that the other man was Dean - but no, definitely not. Who was it, then?

“Bobby?” Sam asked, his voice clearly nervous. “Sorry I haven’t written, but things have been busy, and I didn’t-“

“Quit apologising, ya idjit” The older man interrupted roughly before hugging Sam. “There’s enough time for you to grovel later on, but first you’re goin’ to fill me in. Best to start with introducing that bloke there.”

“Uh, yeah, sure” Sam said after they had parted. “Cas? Do you wanna-“

“I’m Castiel. And I suppose you are the gruff alcoholic Sam has told me about.”

 

***

 

“Don’t get me wrong, boy, I won’t judge your choice of friends, but... _him_?” Bobby asked after Cas had left the room to ‘take a look at the bees outside’. Sam wasn’t sure if there even were bees in this season, or if Cas had just tried to give them some space, but either way, he was glad to be alone with his father’s old friend.

“He’s not always like - well, actually he is, but he can be really nice. When he’s in the mood. And he’s my flatmate, so I don’t really have much choice here.”

“Right. How’d ya meet him?”

“In a cafe, actually. He asked me out of the blue if I wanted to move in with him, and I...kinda agreed.”

“Did you leave your brains in the same place as John? You don’t just move in with people! What does Dean have to say all this, huh?”

“What d’ya mean, he doesn’t know? Are we talking about the same Dean here?”

“We...kinda fell out. I mean, I left home to go to London and become a doctor - I told you about that, remember? Anyway, I never really told Dad about that, so when I left he wasn’t exactly happy about. Dean, he...you know him. He hasn’t changed much since we last saw you, even though it’s been 8 years. He was still always on Dad’s side, so when I announced I’d go to London and it was clear that Dad would flip, Dean took Dad’s side again.” From what Sam had told him so far Bobby could tell a few things. First, Sam clearly didn’t know about Dean’s visits. Then, he also obviously thought that Dean was nothing but John’s marionette or something like that. Though the older man knew for a fact that this was not true. From what he had figured when John’s boys still had been children, Dean had always tried to protect Sam from John’s harsher side. He couldn’t imagine Dean in a fight to be on John’s side rather than on his little brother’s. On the other hand, Bobby didn’t think it to be much likely that Dean would stand up against his father either. There had to be more behind all this.

“So, Dean and I had a fight as well, and I said a few things that...I regret now. It ended in me leaving, and...yeah. We haven’t really talked since. Bobby...can we please not talk about this?”

“We can, but at some point you will need to face your brother! I can’t believe you two idjits!” Sam nodded with a slightly look of guilt on his face. Bobby softened. “What are you here for, anyway? And don’t give me that ‘I wanted to catch up with you’ crap!”

“Right. Okay. I, well, _we_ need help.”

***

“Let me get this straight, boy, you went to an opium den? And you want my help to find a thief who stole something from this place?”

“Yes” Castiel said. Sam had let him explain the situation.

“Well, I kinda get why you didn’t ask the coppers.”

“Can you help us?”

“I can. Give me...when do you need the information?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Of course you do. Two days, I can’t get it quicker. I’ll let you know when I got it.”

“Thanks, Bobby” Sam said and stood up. The other men did the same. Bobby and Sam hugged again while Castiel stood in the room slightly awkwardly.

“And don’t just come around when you need something, alright?” Bobby asked before the younger men were about to enter the carriage that had brought them there.

“I won’t. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Idjit.” Bobby smirked, and so did Sam, while the vehicle drove away.

***

_“What are you doing?” Dean asked when he saw his little brother carefully folding a few clothes before putting them inside a bag.  
_

_“I’m leaving” Sam answered, distracted by the question whether he should take more clothes than that, or more books. He didn’t notice Dean’s sharp inhaling of air, nor his older brothers panicked face.  
_

_“Leaving, huh? You mean as in, you staying overnight somewhere? Found yourself a girlfriend?”  
_

_“No, I mean as in I’m going to London and I’m not coming back.” Books it was. Clothes he could re-buy, but he might not be able to find these books again. After all Bobby had given him these, so they were probably very rare.  
_

_“Very funny, Sammy.”  
_

_“I’m not joking. And don’t call me Sammy. Could you pass me my coat?” Dean didn’t move, so Sam rolled his eyes and got it by himself.  
_

_“Does Dad know?”  
_

_“He will.” After a last check Sam decided that he had packed everything he needed. He shouldered his bag and looked at his brother. “Can you move, please?” Dean’s Adam’ apple bobbed up and down.  
_

_“No.”  
_

_“Dean, please.” Jeez, why did his brother have to be so annoying?  
_

_“Nope. You’re not leaving this room until you tell me what’s going on.”  
_

_“I told you. I’m leaving this house, now. You might be happy to just be Dad’s mindless little soldier, but I want to have something like a future, a_ life _! Even if you are obviously too much of a daft grunt, that’s not my fault” The shock and hurt in Dean’s eyes were so obvious that it was painful. But Sam couldn’t stay here any longer. He just couldn’t!  
_

_“That how you feel?” Dean whispered. Sam sighed and walked past his brother, to go downstairs to face his father._

***

They hadn’t talked much during the ride, both men preferring it to look out the window. The Baker street was quiet, and most lights in the houses were already out when they arrived. Mrs. Hudson and her daughter were probably either at the Roadhouse, or they were asleep, since in their flat everything was quiet as well. Sam unlocked the door and pushed it open - and heard someone who definitely wasn’t Castiel clearing his throat. He flinched and turned the light on, and saw a man lying on the couch and chewing something. Sam was already searching for his knife when Castiel said:

“Sam, may I introduce: Gabriel, my older brother.” Sam’s hand went limp, and he stared at the man while Castiel followed him into the apartment and closed the door.

“You can call me Gabe” Gabriel said smugly. “I know everything about you, Doctor Watson.”

“Gabriel has the habit of researching anyone who so much as looks at me” Castiel explained, sounding bored as if he was used to it and knew he couldn’t stop his brother anyway.

“Always a drama queen” Gabriel murmured. “I’m merely a little protective over my baby brother.”

“Possessive” Castiel said, “is the term you are looking for.”

“But Sammy here doesn’t mind, does he? In fact I bet he can relate to that, can’t you, Sam?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I would prefer if you wouldn’t call me by my first name” the younger man said, really not liking the way the conversation went.

“Don’t you? One word: Dee.” Sam flinched and suddenly felt Castiel’s a minute ago uninterested but now observant gaze resting on him.

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” The lie was obvious, and Gabriel, the bastard, just smiled.

“He’s in town at the moment. Just in case you are interested. I could arrange a meeting if you want.”

“Not interested” Sam hissed between clenched teeth.

“Fine. I was only trying to help. You should appreciate that rather than snap at me.” Gabriel turned around and walked out, not without ruffling Castiel’s hair.

“It was nice to see you, Cassie” he said. Castiel immediately closed the door as soon as Gabriel had walked out. In the next moment Sam found the other man closer than he was comfortable.

“What do you know about him?” Castiel’s voice was a low growl. Suddenly the height difference didn’t matter anymore, and Sam found that he was actually scared of what his flat-mate would do.

“About whom?”

“Dee” Castiel said, almost soft. A sweat bead rolled down Sam’s forehead. It seemed that Castiel knew Dean, but how was that possible? And how on earth did he know Sam’s nickname for Dean when they were kids? Dean could only have told Castiel himself, which meant that they must be close. But Dean had never mentioned Cas, and Sam was sure that he would have if he cared that deeply about the man. Sure, they hadn’t talked in a long time, but…still, something bothered him here. Maybe Dean had had trouble with Castiel, maybe he didn’t want to be found. Sam decided to cover up for his brother. That was the least he could do.

“I’ve never heard that name in my life. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what Gabriel was talking about.”

“Liar.” Castiel had never sounded so threatening before. This just confirmed Sam’s assumption about his brother and his flat-mate having trouble. Maybe Dean owed Castiel money? “In what kind of relationship are you with him?” The detective demanded to know.

“Back off” Sam said, sounding more confident than he actually was. Castiel didn’t move, just pinned him down with that glare that made Sam wish he’d be invisible.

“Tell me.”

“For Christ Sake, Castiel! He is my brother!” Sam shouted, giving in, and watched a wave of emotions washing over Castiel’s face. Confusion. Understanding. Anger. Sadness. Then everything was once again replaced by an emotionless mask. Without another word Castiel stepped finally back and lied down on the sofa, closing his eyes, shutting out the world. Sam sighed.

“Why did you ask? How do you know him?” He didn’t get a reply, and after another minute of standing awkwardly around while Castiel ignored him he went to bed. A couple of sleepless minutes later during which he thought about Dean and what he was doing right now Sam heard the sound of a violin (*), a melody so bittersweet that it broke his heart. He didn’t fall asleep until the last notes faded into the darkness.

_Dear Dean,_

_We were at Bobby’s place yesterday. He didn’t know that I went to London, so I suppose you didn’t see him. Maybe you should go and visit him...just tell him you are still alive. I think he worries._  
_I also met Castiel’s brother yesterday. His name is Gabriel, and he knows you, or rather does he know about you. I’m scared, you know? Scared what will happen next. Scared what will happen to you. Scared that I might never know. Where are you? Gabriel said you are in London. I am not sure if I should believe him. How would he know? But if you are, why? And why didn’t you tell me?_  
_Castiel knows you as well, and that scares me even more. I want to know how you met, and why he reacted so weirdly after hearing you name. But he won’t talk to me. He just plays the violin. Until yesterday night I didn’t even know he could play. His music is ~~beautiful sad perfect heartbreaking amazing~~ very good. He is very talented. I am sure you would love it. Well, either that or you would hate it and insult him. But maybe you have listened to his music already, who knows?_  
_I’m thinking a lot about you these days. I miss you, and, however you met and whatever happened, I think Castiel misses you, too. I thought you owed him money or something, but after hearing him playing…Now I think you just had a fight or something, and failed to talk about it. But he does miss you. A lot._

_Sam_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOwT_wT9JQc in my mind this is the song Cas plays. You should definitely listen to it, it's really amazing and makes your heart clench in this weird way.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know this was really short. The first few chapters are quite short, but they're gonna get longer, I promise. Anyway, I hope you liked the prologue, the first chapter is gonna come up soon.


End file.
